InFamous: Raising Demons
by mishatippins
Summary: After the RFI wipes out Conduits a lightening storm suddenly parts to reveal an alive and well Cole MacGrath, powerless and weak, only to be faced with a new threat against New Morais.
1. Lightening Storms and Walking Corpses

He thought nothing of the lightening storm.

There was just no way. He was dead. He buried him himself.

Watching the storm through his apartment window, Zeke Dunbar sighed and hoped it would pass faster than he knew it would. Felt good though, not having to cough while watching lightening strike down in the city.

Damn, miss you brother.

Shutting the blinds, tired of remembering he fell down on the couch and flipped on the TV, running his hands over his face and trying to ignore the familiar voice screaming as thunder fell.

His eyes opened up to darkness. A stillness in the air that kept him laying still for a moment. He was on his back, soft fabric over his legs and in an attempt to stretch out weak muscles he hands braced close walls.

Confused he padded the walls, realizing there was a top as well and the walls were incredibly close and that it was hard to breathe. And then it hit him

He was buried alive.

Panic set in as he pushed at the top, holding his breath and feeling weaker by the minute as dirt flew into the box, getting in his eyes and nails and with a final shove he managed to get the lip open enough to drag himself six feet, air gone from his lungs and fear guiding his hands as he shot through the ground, sucking in lungfuls of air and spitting out dirt and roots.

His vision was burred and his mind was attempting to comprehend what had happened. He barely remembered who he was, and that he could hear screams and frightened murmuring before he collapsed, rain pelting on his back and face half-buried in mud.

**Notes**

I had no idea where I was, all I knew was I was afraid and thirsty. I was buried alive, maybe I was dead, heard a woman muttering about how I should be dead.

There were people visiting the cemetary I popped out of, they called an ambulance and now I'm here, alone in a hospital. All seems so familiar...like this has happened before but I can't remember.

Nurse says that's common with trauma. Still can't get over the way she looks at me. Like she knows me.

They say I should stay a few days but I'm itchy and still thirsty, like every glass of water I drink isn't good enough, And it hurts to drink.

I just want to know why. Why was I six feet under, and why does everything I touch explode on contact? Why can't I shower without burning and why am I here now?

It's all too much.

**Audio file between Zeke Dunbar and Rosco Larioche filed 237B**

"How the hell did they find a conduit?"

"That's what I've been asking. Cole killed them all in that blast, from what I heard all of them died."

"But they found another one. Maybe the RFI missed a couple.

"Maybe. We sould get there as quick as we can, they said he's itching to get away. Says he does...does what Cole could do."

"What"

"Hooked em' up to a heart monitor. Guy blew it apart. Even destroyed lab equipment and drained electricity from half way across the hospital. They're keeping hiv on lockdown though, but a nurse asked for you."

"Me?"

"You were close to Cole. Maybe they figure you can help this guy from freaking the fuck out."

"Alright. Let ve get a few things."

**End file**


	2. Hands and Destruction

**Ruins of Empire City- Six Days Left**

She was the farthest thing from God.

Could she even be called that? Could what she was even be considered comparable to what He was, could she actually be even considered to be anything but a choice beyond life and death?

Honestly, she didn't care.

Even in this form she could remember the screaming, the pain, the way she could still feel her flesh singeing and repairing itself, how she could die over and over and over again and still be brought back. She could remember the first time she even revived a conduit. The way he looked at her in fear and begged her to kill him.

She listened to his cry and fulfilled his wish.

Maybe she was more like Death, life and destruction her choice and at her command.

She was breeding an army. She'd need it, too, to finish what the Beast had started. Some fool had come between him and his plan; killing all conduits and just about killing her as well, if it wasn't for her strange healing factor that repaired her flesh and told her what she needed to do.

**_Save the world_**, the voice whispered. **_Bring him back. Use him_**.

_I will_, she promised, looking down at the ruined, charred body of a decaying woman, sliding her hand around the cold dead cheek and feeling her power repair at the girl's flesh.

"Wake up, you have a lot to do."

* * *

**Notes -**

_Starting to remember things; names, faces, a little bit of who I am. Like my brain is reconstructing me. Remembered my name two nights ago._

_Nurse keeps looking at me like I'm crazy, and honestly I don't blame her. Especially when she had to wrap my hands in electrical tape after blowing up about half the electronics at the hospital by trying to touch. Says I'm way too volatile to handle anything they give me. I'm still figuring stuff out...I was a bike courier, I remember that. I remember some guy who's face makes me feel comfortable but when I think about him. But I also feel like I can't fully trust him. I remember a woman who hurts to think about. And a Beast._

_Also turns out I've got the ability to control electricity. Though it would scare the shit out of me but it actually feels like second nature. Like something I've had forever. It's all being a bit too much._

_Docs say it's still a few days before I should be released, 'course he didn't think I heard him mutter about how fucked up I am. Not like I'm in any position to disagree with him._

_Just tired of being wheelchair bound. Legs are weak, probably wont be able to walk for about another week or two. Physical therapy is about the only time I get to move around._

_I'm tired. Want to get out of here._

* * *

**_Audio File between Police Chief Duncan and Zeke Dunbar filed 345T_**

"There's been reports of dead conduits springing back up all over the place. Loved ones returning from the dead with powers and all saying they have no idea how they got there."

"So it could be him? It could be Cole?"

"The hospital refuses to tell me, claiming patient confidentiality."

"Damn."

"Good news is, they will have to release him in a few days. He'll need some help getting around though."

"What?"

"Apparently from what I've heard his legs are shot from three months of no use. This guy's been dead three months. Sara said she's been keeping an eye on him, slight amnesia but that's been clearing up well enough that he can think straight."

"Damn again."

"I'll come by when he's released. Till then."

* * *

**Just Outside of Empire City- Six Days Left**

Hand of God. That was what she decided on. She needed a name, one that would remind people of what she was. Remind herself too, maybe.

She had a few followers now, ones that pledged allegiance to her cause and believed in her as their guide and leader. And she welcomed them, her Children of the Hand, conduits of all makes and models all ready to service her and fight with her.

It would be a short war.


	3. Weak Feet and Tears

**Five Days Left**

The Hand found very few moments to be at rest. There was so much chaos, so much destruction that she simply did her duty to Him and worried not about her own self in terms of rest.

Did she need rest? It was an honest question; she'd gone several days without needed to repair herself or rest, even after reviving the conduits she'd found along her way. She'd kept herself busy, worrying not about boredom or turning off her course.

She had one thing in mind.

She'd traveled for miles, compensating for the weaker conduits who were still repairing and rebuilding themselves and allowing herself to think as well. Richard, a fire conduit that had been one of the first she'd brought back had mentioned that the rest of her company needed to rest in intervals, after all, they were still human in body. She'd obliged, healing who she could and focusing on raising others becoming her prime objective.

She needed them to be ready. This war couldn't be won on her own.

Stacy, a shadow conduit, as The Hand called her, watched the once dead bodies rise from their graves like rubber, rotted flesh and ruined faces rebuilding to normal. She didn't know what to think; before all of this she was a hard working single mother who kept mostly to herself and her child, not even knowing how she'd gotten these powers.

Her earliest memories were putting Jeremy to bed so he'd be awake when she went to work that night, even slipping into bed herself to wake up in a pile of rubble, the The Hand looking down at her, a strange mask covering her face and an outstretched hand cupped around Stacy's cheek. She felt herself fix, felt her bones repair themselves and felt a heavy cloud over her that made everything seem gloomier than it was.

The Hand promised to bring her son back if she helped kill the humans. That was the reward for murdering thousands. A little boy who was nothing but a victim of a bombing of a New York appartment by the First Sons. Who had done nothing in his little life but be nothing but a little boy.

Sinking back into the rubble she was sitting against, if felt good to disappear with her power, to have herself vanish and invisible so no one could see her cry. Raising her hands made of nothingness she cried tears of nothing and let herself drain of emotion.

"Emotion makes us weak," The Hand had told her, "let it out when you can. I know how it can destroy you."

The Hand was strange, she was an older woman, her face almost completely concealed except for her nose and mouth, a heavy scarf wrapped around her neck and a thick hood covering her hair with a jacket rolled up at the sleeves with thick gloves covering her hands. She looked as if she was preparing for winter, which was still a few months away. But as much as Stacy tried to wrap her head around things she was just as emotionally comprimized as before.

"Are you alright?" a voice beside her made her jump.

**New Marais - The Hospital**

His name was ColeMmacGrath, and he remembered _everything_.

Thank God it was just temporary, memory loss was a damn bitch and it meant his head was less damaged than believe.

The less brain damage, the better.

He was still weak in the legs, an idea of how to fix that had crossed his mind but not here, not when there was lab equipment that he could damage and risk more lives than he needed to

_Shit_.

Struggling to get out of the hospital bed he'd been tied to, Cole made his way to the tiny counter on the opposite side of the room, frowning at the dirt stained clothes and the atrocious rotting smell that accompanied them.

_Figures, damn it_.

Ignoring the clothes he leaned heavily on the one crutch they provided him and he debated on how the Hell he was going to get out of there. For one thing, playing dumb wouldn't be an excuse with these people and the fact that a few months ago he was dead was another reason he couldn't just strut on out. Everyone knew him here, and he didn't know if in his condition he could deal with the amount of attention he would draw. Especially when he was in nothing but a hospital gown.

Huffing, almost ready to give up, he froze when he overheard one of the nurses talking, trying to hobble back to the bed for more planning he was stopped when a familiar voice started getting louder.

_Bingo_.

_He_ had to have heard by now, even with how the Doctors were keeping it strictly confidential. It made Cole smirk, knowing just who that voice belonged to.

It was a couple more moments before the low talking got drowned out by the sound of squeaky shoes on tile and Cole turned to see Zeke standing in the doorway, ignoring the shouts from security and the dumb, shocked look on his face was priceless.

"So it's true. Shit, man."

"True as it's gonna get."

There was a few moments before Zeke went full speed, faster than Cole had ever seen him and nearly tackled him to the ground.

"Damn it you were fucking dead."

"I have the crutches for a reason, Zeke."

"Shit brother, sorry," Zeke backed off, watching Cole gather himself back up. "How the hell are you here? And by here I mean fucking alive?"

"I don't know. I thought when I'd start remembering again I'd figure it out but nothing's come to me," he hobbled back to sit down on the bed.

"I buried you. We had a whole ceremony and everything."

"Really?"

"Dude you were a hero."

"Ah."

More silence.

"Cole," Zeke cleared his throat. "Just...people don't come back from the dead."

"Yeah I figured that out."

"And...here you are."

Cole shrugged. "Here I a. Look, I don't know what to tell you. I certainly didn't bring myself back. I think."

"Well, no since in sittin' around and bitchin' about it," Zeke muttered, shedding off his jacket and handing it to Cole.

"What am I-"

"Can't be walkin' 'round in that gown. Duncan's outside."

"Duncan?"

"The last police chief died during the attack from the Beast. Duncan's taken over, been roundin' up what's left of Bertrand's militia that didn't disband with the others. Those that are left have mostly become thugs themselves. Been workin' with 'em."

"You and cops. Never thought I'd see the day."

Moving was a lot easier when he leaned against Zeke, the two of them slowly making their way out of the hospital while some sort of crisis pulled the doctor's attention away from them. His supposed release day wasn't for another week, and now thinking about it Cole assumed it was actually scheduled for never.

"Can you get in the back?"

"Afraid I'll blow it up?"

"Can't be too careful my man," Zeke said as they managed to get out the front door, an old truck stuttering in the very front and the way Zeke pointed meant it was obviously Duncan's.

"There you go," the other man muttered as he helped Cole slide up inj the back. May wanna keep you head down."

"Why would I-" The fire of gunshots answered him as Duncan slammed on the gas and sent Cole sliding back first into the rear of the truck, cursing as his head slammed on the rim of the window.

"Sorry brother! Militia thugs!" Zeke's voice was barely heard over the sirens blaring on Duncan's truck and the continuous fire of gunshots. Grabbing the rails of the bed and planting bare feet down Cole hung on for dear life and the truck fishtailed through the streets of New Marais.

She had no idea how he'd found her. She'd been able to avoid detection all this time only to have him sniff her out.

His name was Richard. Said he had fire powers, that he was one of the first ones to wake up by The Hand. He was handsome, had one of those goatee beards that would probably look like shit on anyone else. But he had a nice face that made the beard work, and soft blue eyes.

"I can sense heat," he admitted when she apparated to him, surprised thst he could even see her. "It's a talent that comes with These kind of powers."

"Oh."

"There's no reason to be upset," he smiled. "The Hand will keep her promise."

"You know?"

"The others don't call me her 'right hand' for nothing," he sat down beside her. "Tell me about your boy."

She just let everything out, seeing the electric man, seeing Kessler as he was called, seeing buildings explode and seeing people die. Losing her son as she ran, never forgave herself...

"He was right behind me..."

"You know," he said softly draping his arm over her and pulling her close. "He's the reason your son is dead."

"What"

"The Hand knows all. She will help you get your revenge."

"I don't want revenge...My son he didn't..."

"But you do," she watched his eyes turn red, her mouth falling open as she felt a soft tugging in her mind. "You want to kill Cole MacGrath because he killed your son. He was the cause of that explosion."

"I...want to kill him...But-"

"But nothing, sweetheart," he took her chin in his hands. "In a few days, I want you to feel his blood drip down your hands. And I want you to kill him."


End file.
